


Cold Touch

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: Snape oversees Neville's detention, with the promise of more. Neville's not sure what to think of that.





	Cold Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Written using the prompts Snape/Neville and 'something set during DH', which makes Neville 17 in the fic. Written July 2010.

“Asphodel,” Neville murmured to the gargoyle sitting outside the Headmaster’s office. The passage opened, and he drew a steadying breath before stepping onto the spiral staircase. Butterflies swooped madly in his stomach as he ascended, heart hammering madly in his ribcage. He had no idea what awaited him at the top, and was relatively certain he wouldn’t like it once he got there. 

This was the first detention personally overseen by the headmaster since his, Ginny and Luna’s failed attempt to steal the Sword of Gryffindor for Harry; and while they had all got off light that time by being assigned to work with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest, Neville doubted he would be as fortunate this time. A, small, foolish part of him hoped Snape would at least be quick about whatever he had planned. He was still sore and throbbing from the combination of caning and Cruciatus he’d received two evenings earlier from Amycus.

Lifting his chin, Neville knocked at the door, cracking it open upon hearing the muffled “Enter” from the other side.

“Reporting for detention. Sir.” Neville slipped inside the office, eyes automatically shifting to the spot where he, Ginny and Luna had found the Sword. The space where it had hung was empty.

“The sword is in a location well beyond your reach,” Headmaster Snape said dryly. “You might inform Miss Weasley of that when you see her next.” Closing the book atop his desk, Snape got to his feet, waving Neville further into the room. “Blatant disrespect of authority appears to be becoming a habit with you, Mr Longbottom. Are you perhaps attempting to appropriate the mantle from Mr Potter while he enjoys his fugitive status?”

Neville shook his head. “No, sir. I’m nothing like Harry.” He tried not to shiver; the room was uncomfortably chilly, although the cold didn’t seem to affect Snape at all.

“Cold?” Snape’s thin lips twisted into an unpleasant smile. “Good. Disrobe, Longbottom. You will be doing lines this evening.”

“Naked?” Neville stared at the headmaster, aghast. The room was freezing!

“I wouldn’t have asked you to disrobe otherwise, now would I?” Snape conjured a large blackboard. “You may say you’re nothing like Potter, but you seem to share the same lack of intellectual capacity. Remove. Your. Clothes.”

Slowly, Neville complied, gooseflesh erupting across his skin as he stripped down to his underpants, socks, and shoes. Crossing his arms over his chest, he trembled in the chilly air.

“I said disrobe, Longbottom,” Snape said. “Please do me the courtesy of removing every stitch on your body, before I change my mind and defer your detention to the Carrows instead.”

Clenching his jaw, Neville finished undressing, resisting the urge to wiggle his toes against the icy stone floor. Trying not to hunch his shoulders too much, he walked over to the blackboard, knowing Snape had a prime viewing spot of the stripes adorning his arse, overlaid against older welts and bruises in various stages of healing. 

A small table appeared beside the board, holding a propped-up textbook. “You will copy Page 97 of _Defensive Magical Theory_. If there is still space on the board when you finish, continue on to the next page until the board is covered,” Snape instructed. “I don’t need to tell you not to artificially enlarge your penmanship for this exercise, as I’m quite aware your letters are rather small. It would be a pity if I had to erase the board and have you start over from the beginning.”

Gritting his teeth against the cold, Neville began writing, copying the excruciatingly dull text from the worthless book he and his year-mates had been forced to study during their fifth year. He kept his writing small and neat, as ordered. He was convinced if he exhaled gustily enough he’d be able to see his breath frosting the air, but was afraid to test the theory. He didn’t want to be right. He only wanted to finish before he took his death from cold, fingers moving across the board as fast as he could while keeping the words legible.

Goosebumps rippled across his body again when Snape came to stand behind him, fingers tracing the marks on Neville’s arse. They were still sore, even after two days, and Neville couldn’t prevent a hiss of indrawn breath when Snape pinched at one of the stripes.

“They’re rather fond of corporal punishment, are they not?” Snape murmured in Neville’s ear. “It demonstrates a regrettable lack of imagination, although I understand Mr Filch hasn’t been this happy in years. They don’t understand there are other ways to break a person, or to give the illusion a person is broken.” The fingers left Neville’s backside, sliding around his hip to grasp his flaccid cock, stroking it with slow familiarity. “Do you understand?”

Neville shook his head, biting back a moan as his cock hardened beneath Snape’s touch, body betraying the riotous confusion ricocheting through his skull.

“You will.” Snape’s hand moved up and down along his length, thumb skating across the head, dampening it with precome. “You will be taking the majority of future detentions with me from now on, at least until I can determine whether or not you’re more like Potter than I’d wish. I cannot save you from all of Amycus and Alecto’s attentions, but it should be enough to allow you to fully heal between times.”

It didn’t take long for Neville to come, being only seventeen. He twisted away at the last moment so his semen wouldn’t splash the board and erase his work, twitching as Snape’s fingers milked him of every drop.

“Why?” Neville asked, catching his breath. “Whose side are you on, really?”

“Mine, of course.” Snape stood back, examining the words on the board. “I think we’re finished for the evening. Do try to wait at least a day or two before you receive detention again. Now get dressed and go.”

Neville obeyed, unable to leave the office fast enough and make his way back to the Gryffindor common room. He still didn’t understand what Snape wanted from him, but this was the second time he’d received a less than onerous detention from the man, with the unspoken promise of more to come.

He hoped he’d be able to figure out what Snape wanted before he lost patience and gave him back to the Carrows.


End file.
